


That Thing She Did

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Written for @leiascully‘s XFWritingChallenge Prompt: Rest. This story is a follow-up to In The Dark where Scully is on assignment as another agent’s wife (and written from Mulder’s POV).This is set a day or so after the assignment and is from Scully’s POV.NSFW.





	

Scully pushed him back down against the mound of pillows. His brow furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, he let out a long, hissing moan through his teeth. His lips hung open, his bare chest rose and fell as his breathing deepened.   
‘Sculleee.’   
‘Oh, Mulder.’   
‘Stop, please.’   
‘I have to finish, Mulder. Please.’   
She could hear the tension in her own voice as she looked down at his hands. His long fingers had always intrigued her. One hand gripped the bed sheets, his knuckles white. She checked his face again. He was sweating now, red. She tucked her smile away and concentrated.   
‘Shit! Scully, that hurts.’   
‘Stop being such a baby, Mulder. You need stitches, so you can either let me do this or you can let me drive you to the hospital so the nice, kind, overworked and stressed out emergency doctor can do it for you.’   
He turned his face away and issued a dramatic sigh.   
‘And when we get there you can tell that same nice, kind doctor how you, a trained FBI agent of many years’ experience, managed to punch the car window of a fellow trained FBI agent of many years’ experience.’   
‘Scully,’ he said, rubbing his forehead with his good hand. ‘You sound like Kersh.’   
‘No, if we were facing Kersh with this little story he’d be making me explain to the doctor why you punched Conway’s window out and then he’d charge me your medical expenses. You’re lucky Skinner has a soft spot for you.’   
His face whipped back round. ‘I think you’ll find he has a soft spot for you, Scully.’   
She tutted and continued her needlework. She almost felt sorry for Mulder, his face paling rapidly now as she closed up the nasty gash he’d managed to inflict on his right hand during his meltdown. She hadn’t bothered to ask him what Conway had said to trigger the red mist, but she guessed it hadn’t been overly complimentary about her. The last case, where she’d posed as Conway’s wife and was forced to share an apartment with the little toad for two whole days, had been a trial. And also for Mulder, it seemed.She loved Mulder’s passion, his empathy for victims. She sometimes admired his ability to leap in without fear of the consequences. It had certainly led them to some amazing discoveries, to close out some of their most demanding cases. But sometimes, it led him to jump off bridges onto trains, or go running off to the Arctic.   
And then there were the times it made him punch car windows.   
“Have you done?”   
God, for a man who’d been shot, beaten, burnt and slashed by mysterious creatures in forests over the years, Mulder could be such a wimp. “Yes, I’ve done. I’ll get you some pain killers, but the best thing you can do is rest.” “I’m not tired.”   
“You need to rest, Mulder. Doctors orders.”   
“Why do you only play doctor with me when there’s something in it for you?”   
“Why do you only act normal when there’s something in it for you?” 

She went to the kitchen to get him some water. He was still pouting when she got back.   
“Do you want anything else, Mulder? If not, I’ll get going.”   
His eyes flashed. “You’re leaving?”   
She picked up her bag from the chair in the corner of his room. She couldn’t help but notice the clothes he’d removed. Grey tee-shirt, blue jeans, black boxers. The shape of him still visible in them all. She lingered a moment. Why had he taken his underwear off? Was he wearing anything at all?   
“You don’t need me to stay. I’ll just get in the way.”   
“In the way of what?” He leant forward and the sheets wrinkled up around his waist. She tried not to stare too hard at his lap.   
“Of your rest and recovery, Mulder. There’s a sandwich in the fridge. Try to get some sleep first.”   
With his good hand, he punched the bed. “I’m not tired. I’m angry, Scully.”   
She put the bag back down, knocking the boxers to the floor. She picked them up, rubbing the seam between her fingers. She sat by the side of him and he moved his legs obligingly. “Why are you still angry? What did Conway say?”  
He puffed out a breath so hard that his nostrils flared and he kind of snorted. She smothered a giggle into her hand and waited for him to gain his composure. He let his head fall back against the pillow. His fringe flopped over his face and he scooped it back, looking simultaneously young and sad and like he needed a good hug.   
“Conway’s an asshole.”   
She picked at a thread on the sheet and accidently brushed the side of his knee. His fringe flopped back over his face. This time she had an urge to brush it back. She tucked her hands in her lap, clasping her fingers tight.  
“Look, Mulder. I know how this goes. He said something sexist, you defended me. He accused you of fucking me and you denied it. He said something about my tits or my ass and that if you weren’t into me then he’d have a crack or he implied you were gay or I was gay or frigid and then you got in his face and he pushed you back and then there would have been a silent moment where you sized each other up to see who was going to make the first move. In short, you were having a pissing contest,” she said, looking at him as he raised his chin in protest, “and it got out of hand.”   
He went to lift his injured hand to his face and flinched. He rubbed his chin with the other hand instead. “It wasn’t like that, Scully.”   
She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, picked up his good hand and squeezed it, giving him as kind a smile as she could muster.   
“How about that sandwich?”   
He finished the sandwich in silence. He sipped the tea she’d brought him. She sat in the chair, having folded his clothes, and watched the way his lips stuck to the rim of the mug. He was slightly dehydrated. She should get him more water. She should leave him to rest. She should go home and get some rest. It was past nine. Mulder would be just fine.   
“Scully, what was it like living with him?”   
“Who?” she asked, collecting his mug.   
He pulled a face.   
“Oh, when you said living with…I thought you meant…”   
“Who else have you lived with, Scully?” His voice was taut, strange.   
“You meant Danny Conway,” she said, cutting off his chance to probe further. “He was messy, noisy, watched all those terrible reality shows, took up three spaces on the couch. Nothing that I didn’t expect. He acted the way he acts in the office. He’s a pig, Mulder.”   
His shoulders relaxed and his lips twitched into a satisfied smile. “Sit with me some more, Scully. Tell me all the details.”   
She shouldn’t indulge him. She really shouldn’t. He was in one of his clingy moods. She should just go home now. While she was standing. He looked at her though. With his face soft and his eyes wet and his mouth slightly open. His nipples were dark and tight, the sparse hairs on his chest sticking out, waiting for a hand to brush them back down. She should just go. He patted the bed. At least he didn’t waggle his eyebrows.   
She should leave. Right. Now.   
“Please,” he said.   
Her legs moved forward. This was all wrong. She sat down again. Closer to the head of the bed this time, so that her hips were aligned with his. She tried to twist her chest away from him, but somehow she found her shoulder pressed against his chest. He smelled…like Mulder.   
“There are no details. Well, none that are worth sharing.”   
He shifted so that he was angled towards her and she felt surrounded by him. His shape under the sheets fitted her shape outside of them.   
“Did he leave the seat up?”   
“I used the main bathroom. He used the ensuite.”   
“Did he squeeze the toothpaste wrong?”   
“I had my own tube. I wouldn’t know.”   
“Did he snore?”   
“What?”   
“Could you hear him snoring?”   
“I slept in the master bedroom. He was in the other room. I don’t know.”   
“Did he cook for you?”   
“He opened a can of tuna once. It was the kind I don’t like.”   
“Did you cook for him?”   
“Mulder,” she said, giving him the look. “I don’t cook. You know that.”   
He leant forward and she could see the dry skin on his lip, the darkening stubble on his chin, the vein that throbbed on his temple. He looked away briefly, took a breath, so that she could feel his chest rise against the back of her arm. Gooseflesh skittered across her own skin. She pressed her lips together, holding in her breath, squeezed her eyes shut. “Did he put any moves on you?”   
She couldn’t help but snort out a giggle. “What? Mulder, are you serious? We were on a case.”   
He flopped back against the pillows and she missed his warmth. She stood up. “You need to get some sleep. You’re delirious.” She walked to the chair to get her bag.   
“So Danny Fucking Conway is not only a prick but he’s a loser prick too. Figures.”   
She turned. “You didn’t put any moves on me at The Falls, Mulder.” Why did she say that?   
He sat forward with a jolt and as he pulled his injured arm in close to his chest the sheet slipped. She caught a glimpse of the dark swirl of hair, his toned stomach.   
“That was different.”   
“How?”   
“You’re my partner. It would have been unprofessional.”   
“Conway is an agent. We were on assignment. It would have been unprofessional too. Get some rest.”   
He went to get out of bed and she put a hand over her eyes. “Mulder, you’re not dressed.”   
“You’ve seen it before.”   
“That was different.”   
“How?”   
“I wasn’t in my right mind.”   
She heaved in a deep breath and tilted her head back.   
“What’s that look for?” His legs were dangling over the side of the bed and the sheet was a crumpled mess over his lap.   
“It wasn’t a look. I’m tired. You’re tired. I’m going.”   
He stood up, wrapped the sheet around him, holding it with one hand, and reached out to her with the other. “Don’t go. Not like this.”   
“Like what?”   
“On bad terms. Arguing.”   
“We’re not arguing. We are disagreeing.”   
He turned her to face him, put one hand on her shoulder and she could feel his fingers kneading the knot in her back. “I’m sorry I overreacted,” he looked down at his bandaged hand. “And thank you for doing this.” His fingers dug deeper, rolling at the gristle. “Scully, you’re so tense.”   
“Which is why I need to go home and get some sleep.”   
He shifted forward an inch and she could feel him breathing against her neck. “I’ve got some moves, Scully and I told you the other day how much I liked kissing you. Can I do it again?”   
She should go. She should leave. Right. Now.

Instead, she tilted her head up as he bent his down. His lips met hers and the dryness scratched at her mouth for a moment until he inclined his head, increasing the friction and the wetness. His good arm snaked down her back and pressed her harder against him. She grabbed a fistful of the sheet still trapped between them. She let his tongue wander over her teeth and dip under hers. Her fingers pulled at the hair at his nape. His bandaged hand pushed against her hip, lifting the blouse out of her skirt on that side. His good hand pulled the rest of the fabric out and she flinched at the feel of his fingers against her bare skin. Her nipples hardened and she let out a soft moan. The sheet fell away.He pulled back and smiled down at her.   
“Do you want to know the real reason I hit Conway’s car window?”  
“Probably not.”“He’s a liar.”  
“Well, you don’t have to be a trained investigator to know that, Mulder.”  
“He told me you did that that thing with your…”  
“Mulder…I did not do that thing with my…” she could feel the burn of the blush over her chest and neck and face.  
“But he got it all wrong, Scully.” He put his hand over hers and guided it between them. “When I asked him to describe it to me…”  
“You what?”  
“Let me finish,” he said, hitching a breath as he wrapped her fingers around his shaft, “he told me that you did this.” He guided her hand up and down with a slow deliberateness that made her knees go soft. “But he didn’t know exactly how you did it, and he said you used your right hand and I know that your left hand is the better one.” He inched their clasped fingers up and down at excruciating slow pace and he kissed her. He dropped his own hand and left hers in place. “I know from experience. Because that night in the car, I had a revelation.”  
“A revelation, Mulder?” She glanced down and looked at her small hand wrapped around his hard cock, squeezed the base and tightened her grip, sliding up and thumbing the end, swirling around and around until he groaned into her shoulder.  
“Yeah, Scully. An insight into what you could do. With this fucking glorious hand.”  
“We were fully clothed in the car.” She turned her wrist over and pumped him harder for a few seconds then slowed.“Doesn’t matter. A man can tell.”  
“Is that right?”  
“Well, I could tell. And Danny Fucking Conway had no idea. Scullleee, that feels so good.”She nodded. “Uh-huh. A woman can tell,” she kissed him again. “And Mulder, I’ve got some moves too. This is just one of many.”   
He groaned again and again. “Wanna play house for the night, Scully?”   
“Are you giving me an assignment, Agent Mulder?”   
“A top secret one. Need-to-know-basis only. No reports. No discussions.”   
She lowered herself to her knees. “Well, that’s good because I’m hoping you won’t be able to talk after this.”


End file.
